If you can't stand the heat....

The Fatalist has posted on a subject which is close to my heart, noise. Or, to be more precise, silly old cunts complaining about noise. His post relates to some prick moving into an area where there is noise from aircraft flying into and out of Heathrow airport. For your information, no new airport has been built in this country since 1944. Nearly every civil airport in the UK is formed on former RAF air bases. True, many of them have been expanded and redeveloped over the years but, that is where they [almost all] derived from. Some are expansions of the few pre-war civil airfields / aerodromes [Croydon, Yeadon [Leeds /Bradford], Prestwick]. Yeadon, now called Leeds / Bradford International was a fog-bound gras strip on top of a hill. It was in the middle of nowhere. Then came WW2 and A. V Roe, or AVRO, as it came to be known, built a huge big factory making Lancaster Bombers. For obvious reasons, the factory was sited out in the middle of nowhere. Almost immediately after the war, the place reverted to a civilian airport. Simultaneously, apparently, some silly twat started developing the land around it and, as the saying goes, "if you build it, the people will come". As with all airports, silly cunts who live next to them, complain about the noise of the aircraft. Didn't they notice this when they bought the house? It's not exactly like buying a Wimpey house with a countryside view from the kitchen window only to wake up one morning and find that Wimpey have built another 500 houses on the other side of your fence.

Drag Queens for a Birthday

Yesterday was the Black Widow's birthday. David had laid on a cabaret. The line-up was not quite as planned. Our resident drag queen, Sheila Bleige, was there as usual. Good old Sheila.

The next....artiest, Fi Fi la Chateau [below]. Apparently, a winner in a drag queen contest. Hmm.
Last up, Mrs Moor, a stalwart of the Black Cap.

By a long way, it wasn't the best cabaret ever in the "Willy". Anyway, Paul was happy.

This is Paul, the Black Widow and hos new boyfriend. Death for breakfast as David calls it. By the time this pic was taken I was well pissed, hence the pic is blurred. Or maybe it was the fact that drag shows rot your brain quicker than heroin.

You Looking At Me?

This is what Sidney looks like when disturbed in his sunbathing.

Pride

Four weeks and counting.

This will be the first year that the KW4 has had a float in the pride parade and, according to lots of people [silly cunts in the pub], it's going to be "fabulous, darling". Well, of course it is, I'm building it!

So far, the whole exercise has been akin to burning £50 notes.

Library Thing

Posts may be a bit fewer and further between while I use "Library Thing" to catalogue my books online. I've been at it for a few days and have only done about 250 books. Dull, I know, but I enjoy things like that. For those who may care to look, my catalogue can be viewed here...

Library Thing

We Shall Not Be Moved

Oh my God! I've just had a "Road to Damascus" type realisation. I'm watching a thing on BBC4 about Vietnam and it is showing a clip of protesters in some US university and they were singing We Shall Not Be Moved.

Something, somewhere in the depths of my mind, such as it is, bubbled to the surface and it was a recollection of one of my brothers teaching me that song.

Along with it was the recollection of my mother giving me a bollocking for singing it. Now I know why. She wasn't a protest song type person.

Going to the chapel [Town Hall]......

Today's the day. The "Wedding Reception" I wrote about back in March is this afternoon. I've just arrived home from work to be told by David to go and get myself clean and sweet smelling [a gargantuan task in itself!] because he needs he to work the bar. Ah well, time to shower and attach my "I love punters" smile.

Green Fair - Pink Hair

Oh dear, it's that time of year again. Camden Green Fair. Lots of GROLIES [Guardian Readers of Limited Intelligence in Ethnic Skirts] and knob heads with cancer of the hair [dreadlocks].

God must favour them because it never rains on Green Fair day [though I can imagine that if it did, most of the punters would get their first wash since the midwife got them wet].

Last year was hotter then hell and I was sweating like a rapist. Looks like the same is set for tomorrow. Still, the over-time pays the mortgage.